Body and Blood
by Lady Feylene
Summary: Voldemort's quest for power and eternal life drive him to the darkest magic there is...Mild slash.
1. Default Chapter

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Disclaimer: Peter, James, Voldemort and the rest do not belong to me. I am making no money off of this.

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Warning: Er...there is a possibility this may be slash later. Keep that in mind!

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Dedication: For Tara, who sent the rabid plot bunnies of this fic after me. I hope it's as good as expectations!

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Author's Note: Okay...so I'm doing something I thought I'd never do. A James-Back-From-The-Dead fic. But it's not going to be all happy and kittens and roses. No no no! I need my angst! Anyway, this is just an attempt, let me know how it is. If you want the rest, let me know and I'll write the rest. I have the arch planned out, it's just expending the effort to write it.

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Body and Blood

It was the sort of magic that was generally performed on a dark and stormy night. It was he sort of magic associated with claps of thunder, crypts, and midnight masses. It was magic of the darkest sort, but those who were performing it were well used to journeys into the macabre. And black magic was black magic, even when it was being preformed on a warm spring afternoon.

"Is all in readiness?" The voice was slick and serpentine, the s' long and syllabant.

"Y-yes master." The second voice was weak and frightened, and one that sounded as though it attached the word 'master' to a great many of it's sentences.

"Good, Wormtail. I was nearly afraid your trademark cowardice would ruin this as well." The soft voice held a hint of amusement, and Wormtail-who still called himself Peter in the deepest recess of his mind-hung his head.

"No, master." 

"Good. Now...you know what you must do."

"Yes, Lord Voldemort." Wormtail bowed, hands clasped tightly together before him. He slipped out of the room, revulsion forming into a solid ball in the back of his throat. He wanted to be ill. Being in the presence of Lord Voldemort always did that to him, giving him that feeling that his skin was crawling and his lunch was about to come up. He ran ah and through his hair, tucking it behind his ears.

//He doesn't know what he's getting into...// Peter thought to himself, fording his breathing to remain calm. Voldemort's obsession with death, reanimation, and power were finally all coming together in one 'brilliant experiment'. Peter personally saw nothing brilliant about it. He actually thought it was a stupid, dangerous thing to do. Not to mention risky...

//Not for him, though. Just for me.// And what did it matter to the Dark Lord, if Peter Pettigrew was lost? As long as he got his precious prize...

//There are some things that are better left alone. This is one of them.// It didn't even matter that, in theory, he was being given a chance to right wrongs he had committed in his past. But he didn't think it was worth it. He was expendable to Lord Voldemort, but not to himself. He decided he very much wanted to live. He had done too much given too much for his life to waste it. In a way, he owed James his life. And, he figured, owed James his own peaceful rest.

//Dead is dead. People aren't supposed to come back from the dead.// Peter sighed, picking up the shovel he had prepared for this event. Voldemort would perform the actual ritual, but Peter had to prepare for it. He had gotten all the ingredients that were needed, though some were quite difficult and unpleasant to achieve. He could only thank whatever deity looked over him that James had been an Animagus, and therefore a stag heart could be substituted for a human heart.

Peter Apperated to the cemetery where he knew James to be buried. He wasn't looking forward to this at all. He felt wrong, dirty, and ashamed. He had never visited James' grave before, and he didn't like doing it in this situation. He found the grave, a simple but elegant one. He knelt, swallowing hard. He ran his fingers over the words on the tombstone, finding them somehow fitting. Simple, and unassuming, much like James himself had been in life. 

"James Potter. Beloved Husband and Father."

"I'm sorry James." Peter whispered, not entirely sure what he was apologizing for. The betrayal, or this thing he was about to do. He knelt there for a while, not sure what to do. He took a deep breath, feeling wrong simply returning to James to unearth him. There was so much he wanted to say, wanted to make known. He had spent so long alone with his thoughts, he needed to let them out. And James was the only one he felt deserved to hear them.

"I...I don't want to do this." Peter continued, nervously. "I didn't really want to do the other thing either. But...I did. And I'm going to do this. I don't really want to, but I...I can't say no. I want to, I have the words in my head, but they won't come out. They stick in my throat. He'll kill me James, and I don't want to die! not that I wanted you to die but..." He could feel tears behind his eyes and a sob welling up in his throat. "You don't know what it's like! You weren't there, you've never had him do to you the things he did to me! If you did, you'd have done the same thing." He could feel the tears on his cheeks now, hot and shameful. "I didn't do it because I believe in Voldemort. I don't. Not really. I mean, some of it yeah, but not all of it. I did because I was scared! I've always been weak, you know that. Why did you use me as your Secret Keeper? Didn't you know..." He sobbed out loud, falling onto his stomach on the grave.

He knew he was wasting time. But he needed to get that out of the way, before he continued. He dried his eyes, and stood up, taking the shovel in hand. He cast a charm over the plot, so that no one would see what he was doing. Or at least not pay any attention to it. He began digging, trying hard not to think while he did so. After an hour or so he hit the solidity of the coffin, and used his magic to lift it up out of the hole, and fill it in again. He shuddered, thinking of what was inside the coffin. He didn't want to. He swallowed hard, the stale scent of old death leaking out of the coffin. James was in there, or what was left of him.

"I put you here." Peter whispered, sucking in his lower lip. Tears began leaking out of his eyes again. It was as if only this could fully illustrate what he had done. James was dead. But not for long, if Voldemort's spell worked.

"The dead should stay dead." Peter mumbled, sighing. He didn't think this was right. Regardless of the circumstances, James was dead. Dead was dead, it was eternal, it was the end. But not for James. //What will he think of me, when he comes back?// He swallowed hard, not wanting to think about that. None of this was right, but there was nothing he could do. 

He placed a hand on the coffin, gagging at the feel of half rotted wood and smell of decayed flesh, and Apperated back to Voldemort's lair.

~~~~~

If you like, there will be more.


	2. 2

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Disclaimer: Still not mine.

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Warning: Um...I still don't know if this will be slash or not.

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Dedication: For Tara, who gave me so much inspiration!

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Author's Note: I just can't get this out of my head! It won't leave me alone...I don't know why. I swore once I'd never write a James-Back-From-The-Dead fic, but I am. Oh well, we all fall prey to cliche's at one point or another. I like to think mine is original though...

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Body and Blood

Chapter Two

//This is wrong.// Peter couldn't shake the thought. He sat, his arms wrapped around himself, as Voldemort circled the coffin. //This is very, very wrong.// He tried to be very quiet, hoping Voldemort would forget he was there. That happened sometimes. 

"Remove the lid, Wormtail."

"What?" Peter shuddered. He didn't want to do that. He wanted to pretend that none of this was happening, and that he was somewhere safe and warm and happy. But Voldemort wouldn't let him. It was as if the Dark Lord knew, went out of his way to remind Peter of who and where he was.

"Remove the lid of the coffin, Wormtail." Voldemort said again, stepping back. He looked more human then he had when was first resurrected, but still frightening. Peter nodded, scampering to his feet. He approached the coffin hesitantly, wrinkling his nose at the smell. He looked around for something to use, and found nothing. He'd have to do it by hand. Taking a deep breath, Peter placed his hands on the soft, damp wood, and pulled. It broke apart easily, filling the room with a stale scent. Peter coughed, falling backwards. He had expected some sort of resistance.

"Very good." Voldemort said. "Now remove the body."

Peter wanted to pass out. He nodded, eyes tearing. He pushed himself to his feet, and approached the coffin. He didn't want to look inside. He didn't want to see what was in there. But he had to.

Licking his lips, he peered over the edge. His eyes widened, and he felt a bit of wetness on his cheeks. That couldn't be James.

It was...practically nothing. A heap of greenish bones and red cloth. And a pair of round glasses. That was all that was left. Peter couldn't associate that with his old friend James. He reached inside, skin crawling at the feel of coarse bones. He lifted them, one by one, out of the coffin and placed them inside the circle that had been drawn. He made sure they were in order, as well. He kept talking to James in his mind, apologizing over and over again. He finished, the skeleton put together correctly, and stepped back.

"There my Lord." He said, bowing.

"Very good, Wormtail." Voldemort clasped his long, thin hands together and stepped forward. "You have done well."

"Thank you, my Lord." Peter said, bowing again. He wanted to leave now, but he knew he couldn't. //Why do these spells always call for blood?//

Voldemort began preparing the rest of the spell, placing the various items where they were needed. The heart, still red and faintly warm, was placed in the skeleton's chest cavity. Peter wanted to be ill. Phoenix feathers, bought on the black market, were scattered about the corpse. Voldemort began muttering under his breath, dropping a handful of dirt over the skeleton.

"Wormtail!" He snapped, crooking his fingers. Peter nodded, and scurried forward, offering his left arm. There was more flesh to rend there. Voldemort took out a knife, carved of bone. He dragged it from the crook of Peter's arm to the wrist, letting the blood splatter onto the skeleton and the floor. Peter whimpered, biting at his lower lip. He managed to not scream. Voldemort delighted in hurting him, whether by hand or by curse. 

He was released, and fell back to the floor, crawling backwards to get out of the way. Voldemort was chanting again, summoning dark forces. A great black wind rose up in the chamber, and the room went cold. Peter shivered, holding his wounded arm close to his body. He didn't understand the words Voldemort was saying, and he didn't want to. He felt the icy prickle of unseen things, and heard what sounded like low screaming.

//This isn't right!// Peter backed himself against the wall, making himself as small as he could. Voldemort was opening a gate to the underworld. There were few things more dangerous. Voldemort, as the channeler, was in little danger. But anyone else who happened to be in the vicinity could easily be taken down when the portal closed. Often that was the case. A life for a life, a soul for a soul. The black wind was forming into a column inside the room, and Peter swore he saw spirits inside of it. And unhappy ones at that.

//NO!// He screamed in his mind. He buried his head in his knees, not able to watch. Voldemort was screaming now, to be heard over the wailing of the wind. It made Peter's head hurt, sounding akin to nails along a blackboard. It rise and rose, growing to a cacophony that threatened to burst Peter's eardrums. And then there was a flash of light that he could see behind his eyes, and everything went silent. 

Peter was afraid to open his eyes. He could hear little, save his own heartbeat and the soft sound of Voldemort's breathing. He had to look. He lifted his head, opening his eyes. Voldemort was collapsed on his knees in front of....

James.

Whole, and complete, as he had been in life. Peter gasped, his throat constricting. It had worked? He wished it hadn't. How many times did he wish things hadn't worked, when they did? When Voldemort was brought back, Peter had prayed he had done something wrong, messed it up somehow. But he hadn't. And he hadn't messed this up, either.

"It has been done." Voldemort said, laughing. "It has been done!"

"Yes, Lord." Peter mumbled. //It's been done. But that doesn't mean anything. It's not over yet...//

"Come see, Wormtail." Voldemort beckoned Peter forward, and he approached slowly. He paused, not sure what to think as he looked down at James. //he looks just like he did.// Peter thought. Jet black hair, chin length and slightly curly. His eyes were closed, but his features were the same. Thin and sharp, his lips neither thin nor full. He was as well formed as before, the muscles of his arms, chest, abdomen and legs just barely defined. And he was breathing.

"You did it." Peter said, blankly. 

"This is truly a historical moment, Wormtail." Voldemort said. "Ah! Look! he moves..."

Peter shuddered, watching as James' eyes twitched, and then opened. He wanted to run, to hide behind Voldemort, to fall into a hole...anything. But he could only stand, eyes fixed on James.

"How do you feel?" Voldemort asked, as a pair of soft blue eyes fell on them both.

"Awful..." James said, his voice sounding thick and muzzy.

"That is to be expected." Voldemort said. James was staring at him with an expression of confused fear.

"Where...where am I?" James asked. "What happened?"

"What is the last thing you remember?" Voldemort asked gently.

"I..." James paused, sitting up and rubbing his head. "Well..Nothing, really. Who...who are you?" 

"Ah ha." Voldemort grinned. "I am Voldemort, your lord and master."

"Voldemort?" James seemed to be trying out the name. "Yeah...that sounds right."

"You suffered an accident." Voldemort continued. "But we have found you, and brought you back to the fold."

"We?"

"This is Wormtail, my *faithful* servant." Voldemort urged Peter forward. James eyed him oddly, cocking his head.

"Wormtail...I think...I know you." James said, nodding his head.

"Yes." Peter said, swallowing.

"Wormtail will get you settled." Voldemort said. "I...I must rest. Conserve my strength. Wormtail, please take James to his room and have food brought. I am certain he is quite hungry."

Peter nodded, as Voldemort stood shakily and left the room. He looked back at James, breath catching in his throat. //but he's not really James...Voldemort will be able to use his power.//

"What happened to me?" James asked.

"It's a long story." Peter said. "Do you...do you remember anything?"

"Nope." James shrugged. Do I have amnesia?"

"Yes." Peter nodded. "You don't remember any of it...Sirius, Remus, Lily, Harry..."

"Harry?" James frowned. "Why is that familiar?"

"Your son!" Peter said, latching onto that. "Harry is your son."

"I have a son?"

"Yes!" Peter continued. "With Lily, your wife. He looks just like you..."

"Oh. Where is he?" James asked. "And...why don't I have any clothes?"

"Um...I don't know." Peter said. "Here." He took off his robes, offering them to James. "They're a little short, but they'll cover you up."

"Thanks." James put them on. "So...I am really hungry..."

"Of course!" Peter nodded. "Come on."

He led James to the room that had been prepared, mulling things over in his mind. Voldemort wanted James' power. James had amnesia. Voldemort would be able to control James, unless Peter was able to bring his memories back. Which he would try to do. As long as Voldemort didn't find out...

"So who am I?" James asked, once he had food in front of him.

"You're James Alexander Potter." Peter said. "Your wife was Lily Evans-Potter. Your son is Harry James Potter."

"Wife was?" James asked. 

"She's...she's dead." Peter said, choking out the words. 

"Oh." James didn't seem too concerned. "Okay."

"She was killed by Voldemort." Peter continued.

"Why?" James asked. "I thought he was my lord?"

"No." Peter shook his head. "Look, you can't tell anyone I'm telling you all this! Especially Voldemort." When James nodded, Peter continued. "Voldemort is evil. He's a Dark Lord. He wants to kill everyone who isn't a pureblood. You stood against him. He...he killed you and your wife. And he tried to kill your son, but he couldn't, and he fell. But he came back, and now he's really strong again, and he brought you back to life to use you." Peter said it all quickly, in case they were interrupted.

"What?" James frowned.

"He wants to use your power. And...and I think he wants you to be some sort of trump card. That he can pull out when he really needs it.' Peter frowned, and decided to tell him everything.

"I...I was the one who let him kill you." Peter said, hanging his head. "You trusted me, and I turned you in. I'm sorry!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down." James said. "Start from the beginning."

"Voldemort was after you. I was your Secret Keeper. I...I turned you over to him. He killed you. But...he needs you now. So he brought you back. It's never been done before, but he did it." Peter swallowed hard.

"None of this makes sense." James said.

"Try and remember! Remember Harry, and Sirius! Sirius was your best friend..." Peter urged. The longer James stayed, the worse things would be.

"I think you're insane." James said finally. "Maybe...maybe if I remember more, some of this will make sense."

"But it's the truth!" Peter said, desperately. "Please..." James had to believe him. He had to, because he had to get out. He could go to Dumbledore. And Harry...harry would have his father. 

"Give me some time, okay?" James said. "I mean...some of it...I know those people, the ones you named. I don't know how though."

"We are friends, in school."

"Hogwarts." James said, nodding. "I remember Hogwarts..."

"Keep remembering!" Peter felt a pain in his left arm, and winced. "I....I have to go. Lord Voldemort needs me..." He stood up, biting his lower lip. "Just try and remember, okay?"

"I will." James nodded, and Peter left him, feeling even worse now then before.

~~~~~~


	3. 3

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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Warning: Hmmm...with this new twist, **it's slash**. Er...warning: **Slash. Masochistic situations. Rape**. Male on male, all of it. Don't read if you don't like that sort of thing. I may gloss over it, I may not. It all depends. But this gets very dark...

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Dedication: Still for Tara!

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Author's Note: I was struck. I was recently given the entire first season of Buffy: The Vampire Slayer on DVD. Good show, or it used to be. Recently it's gone down the tube, no pun intended. Anyway, this inspired me to go through my own Buffy tapes, and I was greatly stricken by the Evil Angel Arch...

Be warned. The James you see in this story is not the usual James. Which makes sense, considering what he's gone through. But I just wanted to warn you...

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Body and Blood

Chapter Three

//I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die...//

Peter couldn't get the thought out of his head. He paced the length of his small room, wringing his hands in front of him. He worried his lower lip, he moaned, he sighed, and he whimpered. He wasn't sure how he should be going about all of this, but he was rather certain he was going about it all wrong. He shouldn't have told James everything so soon. What if he went to Voldemort? Then Peter was as good as dead...

//I'm going to die. Painfully and slowly.// He ran a hand through his hair (which he had taken pains to regrow completely) and sat down on his small cot. He bit hard into his lower lip, and yelped as he felt blood splatter over his tongue. He sighed, and buried his face in his hands.

"Wormtail?"

He hadn't even heard the door open.

"Yes?" He lifted his head, eyes wide and watery. It was James, not looking how James had ever looked in life. He was in a pair of black leather pants, and a sleek black tunic. His hair had been slicked and teased and who knows what else to make it stay put. And he wasn't wearing his glasses.

"I need you to run a little errand for me."

"Oh?" This was odd. No one else paid any attention to Peter other then Voldemort. 

"Yeah. I need a pint of werewolf blood. Think you can pick me up some? Wait...why I am asking?" James let out a little laugh. He shook his head, and smiled. Then his voice turned biting. "get me some."

"Er..yes." Peter didn't even know what to say. Whoever this person was, it wasn't James. It may have looked like James (sort of) and sounded like James (some of the time) but it wasn't.

"Good. And I need it soon. Soon as in now." James narrowed his eyes at Peter, who nodded and leapt to his feet, desperate to comply. This James terrified him. This James seemed a born Death Eater. Peter edged out of the room, wondering where he was going to get werewolf blood at who-knew-how early in the morning. But he would, or else he had the feeling that he'd be in pain for weeks to come.

//I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die.// Peter padded down the corridor, pulling his cloak around him. He slipped out of the manor that Voldemort used as his base of operations, and into the rather chilly night air. //Werewolf blood...Knockturn Alley, I guess.//

Peter was well known at Knockturn. He was sent out at least daily by Voldemort. To pick up this, that, or the other thing. No one who wasn't a Death Eater visited there now, so he was in no danger. And the apothecary would be open at this time of the night, at least to Voldemort's personal servant. He Appareted, worrying his bruised lip as he did.

"Hello?" He called, pounding on the door of the apothecary. He shifted his weight, his lips beginning to bleed yet again.

"Oh. S'you." The door was opened just enough to let Peter inside. He bowed his head to the disgruntled shop keeper and folded his hands in front of him. "What does our lord need now?"

"Werewolf blood." Peter squeaked. "A...a pint."

"A pint of werewolf's blood?" the shop keep raised an eyebrow. "What's he wanting with all of that?"

"I...I don't know." Peter shrugged. He really *didn't* know what James wanted with that much werewolf blood, It was a rare spell that called for it, and rare still that called for so much. 

"Well, far be it from me to deny our lord his pleasure." The shopkeeper held out his hands. "Wait here while I get it for you."

Those were words Peter knew all too well. How many times had he come here, to this place, to fetch something for Voldemort? It was always the same. He would wait, and then return, and receive a verbal pat on the head like some faithful dog. That was all he was, he realized suddenly. A glorified pet, a hound, a bird dog....

"Here yah go." The shopkeeper was back, and handing Peter a bag. "Send our lord my well wishes."

"I will." Peter nodded. He took the bag, bowed again, and slipped back out. He Apperated back to the manor. He swallowed hard, darting down the hallways, asking after James. He mostly got shrugs and confused looks, but finally he was pointed to a rather lavish suite near Voldemort's own chambers. A suite? Peter, loyal to a fault, had a cot and a water basin in the basement. Revived psycho James had a damn suite!

"James?" Peter knocked on the door, hesitantly.

"Come in!" James called, and Peter opened the door. He sucked in his breath at what he saw. James was lying on a large canopy bed, upholstered in green and silver. He was shirtless, and a large sword was lying across his stomach. There was a carafe of some sort lying beside him, and even from across the room Peter could see his eyes glittering. And of course there was Lucius Malfoy, also shirtless, kneeling by the bed, a long thin cut still oozing blood across his shoulder.

"Um...am I...uh...interrupting you?" Peter asked, not entirely sure what he had walked in on.

"No, not at all." James said, rising up onto his elbows. "You got what I asked for?"

"Um...yeah." Peter swallowed hard, not liking the cruel glint in Lucius' eyes.

"What's *he* doing here?" Lucius drawled, and Peter wanted to be anywhere but there. He wasn't an idiot. He had heard rumors of Lucius Malfoy's sexual practices, and that he strayed to the far end of the deviation line.

"Great!" James grinned, rising like liquid to his feet. "Here...give me that..." James grabbed for the bag, pulling it off of the container of blood. 

"Um...what...er..." Peter realized, that given the circumstances, he actually didn't want to know what the blood was for.

"Wormtail, Wormtail Wormtail..." James said, draping an arm about Peter's shoulders in a conspiratorial manner. "Don't you know that there is nothing better for increased sex drive and stamina then strait werewolf's blood? Hell, with this we can go all night!"

"Oh." Peter was thoroughly lost. James had never shown any interest in other men before. Much to the disappointment of Sirius Black.

"Hey...you're doable. Want to join in? Or would your master give you a spanking if he found out you were playing with the other puppies?"

"I...uh..." Now Peter's heart decided to take a small vacation to his throat vicinity. He had never given much thought to his own sexuality, but he was pretty certain raw blood and blades were not a part of it.

"Good Merlin Potter, you aren't actually thinking of letting *him* participate." Lucius scowled in Peter's direction, and he hoped that James would take the suggestion.

"Why not?" James appraised Peter. "He's cute. In a beaten dog sort of way. Why not?"

"Because he is Wormtail." Lucius said. "He's despicable."

"Nah..." James' eyes had taken on a very dangerous glint. "I think I want him..."

"I will have no part of anything involving that twitching excuse for a wizard." Lucius said, rising swiftly. "SO I suggest you take your pick, Potter. And I don't think I have to detail which would be the better choice..."

"Depends." James said softly, circling Peter. "I get the feeling Wormy here doesn't exactly *want* my attentions. That in itself makes it oh so much better..."

"So you'd rather rape the rat I take it?" Lucius said, gathering up his clothes. "Fine. If you change your mind, I doubt I will still be so eager to return. I told you Potter, I don't simply lift my robes to anyone who happens to proposition me."

"I know, I know. What can I say, I'm a creature of impulse." James gave a grin that lacked warmth or humor. "Now get out, if you don't want to lend me a hand."

"I don't, rest assured." Lucius gave Peter one hateful look, and slipped out. James reached out and ran his fingers lightly over Peter's face, making the other man draw back.

"James..." Peter wanted to cry. What had Voldemort done? He had changed something, inside of James. He had made him cruel, sadistic...he had made James like himself. Too much like himself...

"I like that...begging my name..." James licked his lips, and tilted his head to look down at Peter. "But I want to hear you scream it."

~~~~~~

Oh, cliffhanger! Yeah, this is slash...lord but I love Psycho-Revived James.


	4. 4

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Disclaimer: Still not me.

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Warning: Mmmmm.......some noncon situations. Not as bad as you may think, trust me...

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Dedication: This is still for Tara! I hope you're enjoying it...

Author's Note: This isn't going to be as bad as you're all expecting. Don't worry about it. Those who were considering not reading, it's safe. :-) And Sirius is so mean! Bad doggy, no biscuit!

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Body and Blood

Chapter Four

Pale Redemption 

Peter quivered in the corner of the room, blood dripping over his eye and obscuring his vision. He swallowed hard, his eyes stinging from tears as well as blood. He hunched over himself, his mind a chaotic whirlwind of bleakness. He couldn't think. He didn't know what to think.

"Ah...you're not playing..."

Peter whimpered, turning his head. He didn't know exactly what was coming, but he knew it would be unpleasant. He felt the tip of a blade caressing his cheek, softly. The cold stung, but not as much as the bite would. He strained away from it, soft sobs rising up in his throat. Why was James doing this to him? A part of him hoped desperately that this was all just an act, that the real James was in there somewhere. Maybe...maybe this was some sort of revenge? 

"You know you like this." James hissed, crouching down in front of Peter. "I bet you want it..."

"No..." Peter mumbled, shaking his head.

"You just don't want to admit it." James continued. "Here...have some of this..." He held out the container of blood. Peter buried his face in his knees, feeling the blade digging into his skin. He was half certain he was going to die.

'Aw shit..."

The blade was withdrawn, and Peter risked a glance at the room. James was shaking his head, sword held at his side. "Looks like our lord wants an audience. Guess we'll have to postpone this till later. And I was looking forward to hearing you scream." 

Peter sighed. It looked like he was being spared, at least for the moment. He took a deep breath, eyes following James as he waltzed out of the room, humming.

What had happened? What had gone wrong? How had Voldemort so completely brainwashed James? Peter had done what he could, but it obviously hadn't been enough. He couldn't do anything more, he wasn't strong enough. He couldn't fight James, and he couldn't change him. *He* couldn't...

//They wouldn't listen to me...// Peter sighed, wiping away blood and tears from his cheek. //They'd never believe me. Well...I don't know. Sirius...maybe. He loved James. Maybe he's help...and maybe he could fix James...or at least...well, take care of things.//

Something had to be done. Peter knew that. James was dangerous. To everyone. Especially Peter. //He'll kill me faster then Voldemort would. I can tell. He's like...I don't even know. He's demented. He isn't James.// That was all Peter could think. This thing, this man, wasn't James. He was sort of a creature, a monster. Voldemort had changed him, somehow. And he hadn't told Peter. Which wasn't anything new. Peter was often kept out of the loop, just in case. His loyalty was still questioned. Still.

//After all I've done...// He cradled his right hand close to his chest, not bearing to look at it. He hated it. He decided he'd rather have no hand then the thing Voldemort had given him. It was a constant reminder of what he was, what he had done. He didn't want to be reminded, he wanted to forget! But forgetting wasn't an option. He had to live with it, live with the pain and the scars.

//This is it.// He knew he had to make a choice now. If he went to Sirius, he would be turning his back on Voldemort. Could he really do that? He had been Voldemort's hound for so long, could he truly run from his master?

//They'll kill me. But so will half the people here.// He was damned, either way. //I'm going to die. I might as well do it trying to make up for things.// He knew he wasn't brave, or strong, or even a good person. But he knew what was right and wrong, and it was time to start doing the right thing.

//If Voldemort is with James, they'll be busy for a while. Voldemort plans a lot.// He could Apparate to near Hogwarts, and transform to get in. He could find Sirius, and hope to explain everything to him before he was killed out right. He wished it had been Remus who was in love with James. Remus was the calmer of the two, the one who would at least listen to Peter before killing him.

//This is it.// Peter took a deep breath, knowing if he thought about it too much, he'd change his mind. He closed his eyes, and Apperated.

***

Hogwarts. It brought back memories. Some of them good, some of them very, very bad. He crawled along the edge of the wall, keeping out of sight as best he could. It was a weekend, and students were going here and there. Peter paused at a turn, wanting to wait until the way was clear before he darted out into the open. He hugged the corner, hoping no one noticed him.

"Oh ew..." 

Peter winced. Voices were always so loud when he was a rat. He chanced looking up, and saw two of the last people he wanted to see. Even from such a low vantage point, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were very recognizable.

"What?"

"It's a rat!"

Peter swallowed hard, wondering if he had time to run. But he couldn't. Something wouldn't let him. His little legs were frozen, and his breathing was coming very quickly. He was afraid his tiny rat heart would burst.

"A rat?" Peter scrunched closer to the wall as Harry Potter moved closer, watching him. "You don't see too many rats in Hogwarts..." There was suspicion in that voice. //Run!// Peter yelled at himself, but he didn't have it in him. Well, if he was caught, maybe they'd take him to Sirius...or Dumbledore!

"I hate rats." Ron said, crossing his arms and taking a step back. If Peter were human, he would have let out a sad little sigh. He actually liked Ron, quite a bit. He felt badly for what had happened to him.

"You don't think...?" Harry trailed off, bending down.

"He wouldn't be that stupid." Ron responded. "Would he?"

Something inside of Peter kicked into gear. He squeaked, and ran. He didn't know where, only that he had to get out of there. He didn't even realize he wasn't being chased. He just ran, as fast and far as his little legs would carry him. Until he felt a pressure on his tail, and someone picked him up rather roughly. There was no warning, and no voice to help him identify who had grabbed him. He twisted and turned, squealing madly. But he was being held down low, so all he could see was denim clad hip.

"I'd stop that if I were you."

Low, gravelly, dangerous. Well, Peter had found Sirius it seemed. He went quiet, and allowed himself to be carried and thrown roughly onto a table top. He shook himself off, looking around. He was in a bedroom, and he was alone with Sirius. Who, Peter noticed, was looking much better then the last time they'd met. 

'Transform. Now."

Peter didn't need to be told twice. He transformed, and hopped off of the table, keeping it between Sirius and himself. //Stay calm. Don't cry. Explain.//

"What the hell are you doing here? And it better be to turn yourself in..."

"Just listen to me!" Peter said, quickly. "Voldemort...he...he shouldn't have! it wasn't right..." //Wonderful! You're making a whole lot of sense. Try again, Sirius is ready to kill you.//

"Oh, found out your lord wasn't as kind as he claimed?" Sirius hissed.

"No!" Peter shook his head. "He's...he did something, something you need to know about! He's going to use it against you!"

"What are you talking about?" Sirius was still suspicious, but it seemed like he was at least going to listen. "And if you're lying, I swear to god..."

"I'm not!" Peter said. "Give me veritasium. Cut off my other hand!"

"Talk." Sirius said, folding his arms.

"Voldemort...he's been messing with dark magic. Really dark magic! He...he can bring people back from the dead." Peter was horrified to realize his voice was a soft squeak.

"He what?" Sirius asked.

"He can bring people back! And he shouldn't...it doesn't matter. Dead is dead, and it's forever for a reason, and I think I know why cause he's all messed up now, and he likes pain and hurting people and..."

"Who, Voldemort?" Sirius sounded confused, and Peter wished he could put his thoughts in order. He was too terrified to be coherent though, or narrate things in the right order.

"No, James."

"What?" Sirius' voice was dead calm. Peter knew he had about five seconds to live, unless he could explain things properly.

"Voldemort brought James back, but now he's evil." peter said, amazed that he could put it properly.

"I don't believe you." Sirius said, in the same flat voice.

"It's true!" Peter insisted. "Give me truth potions, torture me, anything..."

"Why James?"

"Because he can use him!" Peter said. "As a bargaining chip, as a secret weapon...but he made James like him. He didn't have any memory when he came back.. I tried...I tried to tell him everything, but he didn't believe me. Then Voldemort told him he was a Deatheater, and then I don't know what happened. But...he...he came into my room, and he wanted werewolf blood, and then..." Peter couldn't go on. 

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because! It's not right...and you...I can't do anything." Peter took a deep breath. "Send me to Azkaban. I don't even care anymore. I just...I know I'm going to die before this is all over. I figured I might as well do something right before I died."

"It's a little late for nobility Peter."

"I'm not trying to be noble!" Peter nearly screamed. "I'm just doing what I think is right! I'm sorry, for everything I did, okay? I did it for all the wrong reasons, even though I thought they were right. I messed up. I'm a weak, stupid, sad little person! But I'm not an idiot. James...he's dangerous like this. The things he likes...you didn't see what I did." Peter shuddered.

"What did you see?" Sirius didn't even address Peter's outburst.

"Him and Lucius Malfoy." Peter began, and Sirius held up a hand.

"You don't have to go into detail." Sirius sat down. "So why are you here?"

"To find you. I couldn't make him remember..I thought..." Peter sucked in his lower lip.

"You want me to try?" Sirius asked.

"I know if you can't make him remember..you'll...I'm not strong enough...I already killed him once Sirius, I can't do it again."

"Yeah." Sirius nodded. "Yeah, all right. You've got yourself a few days, at least. I need you to help me get in. But afterwards..."

"I go to Azkaban." Peter didn't even care. Maybe he'd get lucky, and they'd give him the Dementor's Kiss, and it would all be over with. He wouldn't' have to hurt anymore.

"Yeah. I'd feel better if we could kill you, but I promised Harry." Sirius rose, running his hands through his hair. "And I still almost don't believe you. So lead the way...I want to get this over with."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	5. 5

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Disclaimer: These characters still aren't mine. I put out bait, I set traps but still nothing! No money is being made off of this.

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Warning: Still mildly slashy. Hints and whatnot, nothing too serious.

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Dedication: Still for Tara, and for Demeter as well, who is so fond of this series. I'm glad it's going over so well!

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Author's Note: Whoo-hoo! Another chapter. I've been having a bit of writers block the past few days, but I seem to be over it. Things are settling down around here, and the atmosphere is far more conducive to writing then it was. And now we have the next installment of Body and Blood...and I couldn't quite tie it in with the Sirius story, but I did add some elements from there into this...

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Body and Blood

Chapter Five

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The Prodigal Returns

Peter padded through the dark, silent halls of the Manor, a large black dog shadowing him alongside the wall. He was alert, eyes darting here and there, lowering when he met the eyes of his fellow Death Eaters. No one seemed to notice the dog, or have any questions about him. Peter was nervous, though. His heart was pounding in his chest, the same as it had been for the past few days. He didn't feel any safer for having Sirius with him. If he was caught...if anyone found out what-and who-Sirius was, Peter would be killed. 

"Almost there." Peter said out of the corner of his mouth. He remembered where James' room was, and headed strait there. He paused outside the door, looking to make sure Sirius stopped as well.

"Here we are." Peter said, taking a deep breath. He didn't know what he was going to walk in on. He couldn't even begin to imagine, not after the last time. "I...I don't know what's going to be going on in there."

Sirius just nodded, sitting back on his haunches beside Peter. The small Death Eater raised his hand hesitantly, swallowing hard. //This is going to be bad. This was a bad idea. I made a mistake.// He knocked, lightly, almost hoping James wouldn't be in, or wouldn't hear.

"Come in!" 

Peter bit at his lower lip, opening the door slowly. He peeked his head inside, ready to bolt if he saw something truly disturbing. He let out a sigh of relief. James was in the center of the room, dressed in a pair of loose harem pants with his sword held out strait at arms length. He appeared to be doing some sort of exercise. There was blood on the floor and the walls, but other then that there was nothing out of the ordinary in the room.

"Wormtail!" James let the sword fall to his side. "Good to see you buddy...here to finish up what we started earlier?"

"Um..." Peter didn't know what to say. //No! I'd never do that...not with you.//

"Good." James rolled his shoulders. "Whoa...where'd the mutt come from?"

"This is...my dog." Peter didn't know what else to say.

"A dog? Kinky but...I don't think so." 

"Ew! No!" Peter shuddered. Despite the fact that in school, Peter had been overly fond of Sirius, and it had led to a few encounters...the mere thought of what James had just eluded to made him want to lose his lunch.

"Well, then why the hell did you bring it?"

"Him. And he...He follows me." Peter shrugged. 

"I'm not having sex with your dog watching." James said.

"I'm not here for that!" Peter shook his head. "I just...erm...I was going to the apothecary, and I wanted to know if you needed anything."

"Aw...Wormtail, you're so sweet." James stretched, cracking his neck. "I think I'm good. Still got some of that werewolf blood you gave me. Don't want to go through it too quickly."

"No..." Peter shook his head. Sirius, meanwhile, had entered the room and was heading over to James.

"Hey...you're mutt's coming over here. He doesn't bite, does he?"

"No." Peter shook his head. "Come on back...Fido." 

"Fido?" James laughed. "Dog like this needs a better name then that. Fang, or Killer or something."

"His name is Fido." Peter said. "Just...let him sniff you."

Sirius was sitting on his haunches again, staring at James. Peter could see how stiff he was, and understood completely. He had been the same way, on seeing James the first time. And Sirius...it had been different with Sirius. Peter remembered those later nights, knowing full well Sirius would prefer James in his arms rather then Peter. That was just the way things were.

"What if I don't want to be sniffed?" James lifted his sword, placing the tip at Sirius' throat. "What if I'd rather see how good dog meat really is?"

"Leave him alone." Peter said. This wasn't going as planned. 

"You don't tell me what to do. I tell you what to do." James twisted the sword, and Peter watched Sirius flinch. 

"Stop it." Peter was frozen. His breath hitched, and he tried to take a step forward.

"No." James leaned forward, and Peter shut his eyes tightly as Sirius yelped. He couldn't watch. Why? Why was this happening? It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not at all....and it was Peter's fault. Again. he had tried to do the right thing, and it had gone wrong. Just like everything else. 

"What the fuck?"

Peter opened his eyes. He let out a long breath, and felt his legs buckle. Sirius had transformed, and was holding James tightly, his hand wrapped around James' wrist. The sword clattered to the floor, and James was looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"I can take things from here, Peter." Sirius said, one arm around James' throat.

"I...I want to stay." Peter couldn't leave now. He had started this, he needed to finish it. See it through to the end.

"Fine." SIrius sighed. "But then you're going to be useful. Get the weapon."

Peter nodded, and grabbed the sword, darting back. James wasn't struggling. He was staring at Peter with blank eyes, mouth hanging slackly open. Peter held the weapon awkwardly, watching what would happen.

"Look, I don't know what the hell happened, and I really don't care." Sirius said, turning James around. "Peter says you don't remember anything. Well, that's to bad. There's gotta be something of the old James in there...this is so fucked up." Sirius shook his head, looking into James' eyes. Peter held his breath, still afraid that James had some sort of trick up his sleeve.

"S...Sirius?"

"Yeah." Sirius nodded, suspiciously. Peter clasped his hands together tightly, the sword clutched between them. 

"What?" James shook his head. "What the...?"

"I think he's coming around..." Sirius let go of James' arms, taking a slow step back. James stood there, looking suddenly very small and not at all frightening.

"Maybe." Peter nodded. Was that all that was needed? Just one look at Sirius, and everything was all better? Well, whatever it took.

"Wait...no." James shook his head. "What the hell are you two doing to me? You're messing with my mind...you're putting things there..."

"No we're not." Sirius said. "Think hard James...remember..."

"No." James shook his head. "You're putting these memories in here. I'm Lord Voldemort's right hand man. I don't know who you are, except people I ought to kill. And you, little Wormtail, it looks like you're a bit of a traitor."

"No!" Peter shook his head. "Not anymore."

"I'll kill you both...after I have my fun with you..." James looked fevered, and was backing away from both Sirius and Peter with the crazed expression back in his eyes.

"He's in there." Sirius said. "You...I can't believe I'm saying this, but you did good Peter." Sirius nodded. "If we can get him back to Hogwarts..."

"I'm not going anywhere!" James snapped. "Give me my sword, Wormtail!"

"No." Peter shook his head. "Sirius...here." He held the sword out to his once friend. Sirius nodded, and crossed the room to take the weapon.

"This is it James." Sirius hefted the sword. 

"No!" James shook his head, still backing away. "You're not taking me anywhere...you're not..."

Sirius shook his head with a definite air, and kept the sword pointed at James. He retrieved his wand from his pocket, and added that as well. James narrowed his eyes, looking from Peter to Sirius and back again. 

"There's no way out. Just come quietly." SIrius said. James folded his arms defiantly, but nodded. Peter finally let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and thanked whatever gods looked over him that finally, something was going right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	6. 6

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Disclaimer: Still not mine.

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Warning: Small hints of slash, nothing too major. Certainly nothing scarring.

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Dedication: To everyone whose following it, and to the Peter Mailing List.

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Author's Note: I think this is a rather sweet chapter...short, but sweet. Don't worry, James comes back in the next chapter. And we may have Sirius' POV...

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Body and Blood 

Chapter Six

Nothing to Forgive

Peter sat on the small, rather uncomfortable bed, head hanging low. Hogwarts. He half hated it, now. Sirius was off somewhere trying to save James. He had put Peter here, and told him to stay put. It seemed Sirius had honored his promise, as no one had come to bother Peter. 

//He can do it.// Peter was certain of this. Sirius had gotten through to James, if only for a moment. And if he had done it for a moment, he would do it for longer. //Then what happens to me?// No matter what he had said, a lifetime in Azkaban was not appealing. Maybe...

//No This is it. At least you did something right. Sirius even said so. I did good.// He sighed, raking his hair out of his eyes. The door opened, and Peter jumped up, eyes wide and frightened.

"It's just me." Sirius closed the door, looking tired and haggard.

"Well?" Peter felt apprehension rising up inside of him.

"I don't know. He's in there. I can see it, for a few minutes. Then he snaps back. It's like he doesn't want to believe what he really is. I just need more time." Sirius shook his head.

"Oh." Peter sat back down. Well, it wasn't exactly good news, but it wasn't bad news either. He wasn't sure why Sirius was here. He buried his head in his hands again, feeling very alone and lost. James. There was a chance that James was going o be alive and okay. And what would he have to say to Peter?

Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't hear Sirius cross teh room. But he did react when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Touching had never been anything good for Peter, and he reacted as he always had. He jumped away, shielding himself and looking away. He curled himself into a ball on the bed, breathing quickly. It as pure instinct.

"Peter? What the hell are you doing?"

Peter looked up, his body relaxing. It was only Sirius. And Sirius wasn't going to hurt him, at least not at the moment. He sat up, feeling very stupid.

"Sorry." He mumbled, feeling himself flush.

"They really fucked you up good, didn't they?" Sirius asked, tilting his head at Peter. Teh younger man just shrugged, not sure how to answer that. "You were always pretty twitchy, but not like that."

"I'm just..." Peter trailed off hopelessly.

"What did they do to you, Peter?" Sirius sat down on the bed, watching Peter intensely. "James threatened to do a whole lot of stuff to me, and told me a whole bunch of stories. I don't know how much he was just pulling out of his arse."

"It doesn't matter." Peter said, looking away. He didn't know how to tell Sirius what they had done to him. Before and after.

"Yes, it does." Sirius said. "I'm going to at least *try* and look at things from your point of view."

"They..." Peter couldn't look at Sirius. Why did he have to ask this sort of thing? "They hurt me." That was an understatement. There were nights-before the Potter's deaths-that Peter had to be carried from lord Voldemort's chambers, and was forced to stay wherever he was put. Simply because he couldn't move due to the pain. 

"How? I mean...Crutiatus, torture, rape, what?"

"All of it." Peter said. "I really don't want to talk about it."

"So like I said, they messed you up good."

"Yeah." Peter just nodded. He didn't like to think about it. It hurt to remember.

:"Doesn't excuse what you did."

"I know." Peter had no false delusions that because he had been beaten, and tortured, and all manner of things that what he had done was okay. He didn't try and justify it, there was nothing to justify. He had made a mistake, that was all there was too it.

"James being alive...it doesn't change much."

"I know." Peter sighed again. 

"You screwed up Peter."

"So did you." He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. "You told them to make me the Secret Keeper."

"Don't you think I know that?" Sirius gave a bitter little laugh. "Don't you think that's been bothering me, preying on me, for years? I know...I know I'm to blame too."

"It's okay." Peter looked at Sirius out of the corner of his eye. "You didn't know. You were trying to do the right thing."

"Good intentions, huh? The road to hell is paved with them, Peter." Sirius sighed, and turned to face Peter.

"Was it...Did I...is it because...?"

"No." Peter shook his head. "It wasn't cause of that. I mean...I was sort of used to it by then."

"And that's not right either." Sirius swallowed hard, and Peter wondered where all of this was going. Sirius seemed to be building up to something, thought what he didn't know.

"Look, I'm sorry. I treated you badly, and I'm sorry. There, I said it."

It sounded as like this admission had pained Sirius greatly. Peter shook his head softly.

"It's okay. You were just doing what you did, that's all." Sirius had always been like that. He never thought. He did what was easiest for him, or he used to at any rate. 

"But it wasn't right. And it's been bothering me for a while now. So it's out, I apologized, I don't owe you anything."

"You never owed me." Peter said, putting his hand on Sirius' arm. Peter wanted suddenly to rest his head on Sirius' shoulder, to curl up to the taller man and just sob. But he didn't think that would be very well received.

"I felt I did, okay?" Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Don't think this changes anything. You're still going to pay for what you did." 

"I know!" Peter snapped, rather vehemently. "You made it clear, okay? I'm going to pay. I'm going to have more horrible, awful things done to me. I understand. You don't need to rub it in my face."

"That's not what I was doing."

"Yes it is. You're trying to make yourself feel better about something. You always did this. You made fun of me to make yourself feel better, you were nice to me to make yourself feel better, and you screwed me to make yourself feel better!" Peter actually felt anger rising up inside of himself. He hadn't meant to be so snappish, but he couldn't help it. How long had it been, since he was able to actually talk to someone?

"Well, it's better then doing it to make you feel worse." Was Sirius' comeback. They sat in silence for a little while, and then it started. Peter knew it would, there was nothing he could do to stop it. He started to cry. He couldn't help it. The tears just started to pout out of his eyes, and he tried not to make any noise. His shoulders shook, and he made small hitching noises in his throat. He bit at his lower lip, shaking uncontrollably.

"Peter....for god's sake..." Sirius sounded exasperated. He patted Peter's shoulder awkwardly, and Peter sank into him, the tears streaming out of his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He wailed, clutching at Sirius' shirt. He felt the larger man's arms go around him, holding him awkwardly and hesitantly.

"Sorry doesn't change anything." Sirius said, and he sounded sad. "For either of us." He tightened his grip around Peter, holding him close. They sat there, locked in a desperate embrace. Peter buried his head in Sirius' shoulder, sobbing unashamedly. And he swore, after a little while, he felt dampness on his face that wasn't his own.

~~~


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